


Bent

by BeePls (nerdybumblebee)



Category: Trainspotting (Movies)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Sickrent, alcohol consumption, coming out story, havent decided if I'll continue, mentions of sex but no actual sex (yet), simon has zero (0) impulse control and his actions have consequences, super super super brief mentions of spud/simon, the dialogue is all in phonetic scots but the rest is plain English because I'm very tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdybumblebee/pseuds/BeePls
Summary: Simon starts picking clues as to why Mark is so hopeless with the ladies and decides to test his theory.Coming out story. Set in 1995. Might remain a one shot might continue.





	Bent

**Author's Note:**

> Took some elements from the books and tailored them to fit this story. First time writing in Scots, so I apologize if it's wrong.

Renton had always been shite out of luck when it came to the ladies. He was so helpless that it nearly made people wonder if he was fucking up on purpose. And it threw Simon, because sure. Mark Renton was a bit socially inept. A scrawny ginger thing, but he was a nice enough bloke. When he wanted to be, mind you. Renton at his core was a whiny little cunt who liked to blame the world for his problems. But he was a hell of an actor. He'd avoided many punishments throughout the course of their school careers, and parents generally loved him. He could only keep the act up for a short while, fair enough. But just a night of it was all that was needed for a round with a fine bird. Simon knew this first hand, because he was an actor too. And he was much better than Renton could ever dream. But maybe Renton didn't need the act. Not when it came to other men.

It had let fly one of their drunken movie nights together that Mark had blown a drag queen behind Cenny's. Claimed it wasn't his intention. Said he didn't even like it. But when Simon saw a stranger leaving the flat one day as he was walking by en route to Tommy's, and Renton walk into the pub later that evening with a bit of something funny in his walk, Simon pieced it together that Mark liked it just fine. It was a few nights later that Simon decided to test this theory. Another night of Goldfinger and Dirty Harry, with a cheap bottle of vodka and ganja nicked from Swanney when he wasn't looking. So if things went south, Simon could just blame his inebriation.

Their eyes were a lovely shade of pink, Mark leaning back into the ratty sofa as Clint Eastwood aimed his gun on the screen, trying to remember how many bullets were in the chamber. This scene was a staple of cinematic history, if you asked Renton. Simon once went three days without talking to him because he said Dirty Harry was better than Goldfinger. The audacity! Simon was still a bit bitter about it, although he wouldn't admit it as this point. He just cast a side glance at Renton, licking his dry lips and looking him up and down. 

Renton had always been a bit androgynous. Said he liked having buzzed hair that made him look boyish. Didn't like how strict rules were about how a person should look or present themselves. How it won't even matter in a thousand years, because there won't be birds and blokes and all these rules will end up being meaningless anyway. He was liberal like that. Always making a point to question societal norms. He had pissed off a quite a few people with his opinions on being Scottish. No sense of nationalism! they'd say. Not that it meant much to Simon. Simon leaned a bit on Mark, hearing his slow breathing just above his head. "Ye guid, Sick?" Simon just nodded and gave a distant "Mhm." He was thinking of the best way to go about this.

It took about another ten minutes before Simon rested a hand on Renton's hip, grazing his fingers up his side. Relishing in the shiver Mark gave as he felt the sensation through his thin t-shirt. "Sick..." His voice was a bit husky. Whether that was from the stimulation or the smoke in his lungs, it still made a slow grin spread across Simon's face. The hand came up, cupping Mark's cheek and he leaned their faces closer together. Mark looked at him through glassy eyes before Simon moved in closer, pressing his lips lightly against Renton's. He didn't protest. He sighed into it, a hand ghosting through Simon's bleached hair. 

Mark hesitantly parted his lips and Simon seized the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, wrapping it around Renton's before running it across his teeth. Mark's grip on Simon's mop tightened and he groaned. Simon pulled back after a minute, the ever present grin still plastered across his face. It made his features sharper and Mark swallowed when he took it in. "Ah hud a feelin ye liked kissin boys," Simon murmured, rubbing his thumb over Mark's cheekbone. "Kissin isnae aw, is it? Naw, ye loch a bit of everythin."

Mark already had cotton mouth from the weed, but now his throat was bone dry. "Sick, 'at cam it ay nowhaur," he mumbled, his hand still in the other's hair. Still gripping. He gripped harder, jaw going a bit slack at the purr that slipped from Simon's lips. "A bit ay warnin wood be braw, ya crease."

Simon stole another peck at Renton's lips. "It's mair fin when it's a surprise, innit?" He looked down for a minute and his grin faltered a bit. He should be happy, he was right. He was right and had gotten Renton flustered. It was two birds with one stone. But it just didn't feel the way he thought it would. The satisfaction wasn't there. He a was a little ticked off. He just got off of Renton, sitting at the other end of the couch. The living room was quiet for a while, save for the film that was all but forgotten. When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet. Soft, but still distant. "How come ye ne'er tauld me? Am yer best mate."

"It was nane ay yer business," Renton said quickly, his face twisted in defense in a show of mock anger. But his tense body loosened when he saw how Simon recoiled at the snap. He looked down, clearing his throat as his played with the fraying fabric of the couch cushion. "Ah jist didne wanna onie ay mah mates tae ken. Nae reit noo. Mebbe later when it wooldnae be as big a deal."

Simon thought back to all the times he and Spud had kissed or rubbed against each other. Always able to blame it on some form of substance abused. Even when they had only had a few shots and were just desperate for some form of contact. He shrugged. "Ah dunno," he said, arms crossing defensively. "Ah dorn't think it's 'at big a deal."

"'En wa did ye make a big shaw ay kissin me," he demanded. "Fur fuck's sake, Simon. Waur ye jist tryin' tae prove yer point?" Mark tried to look angry. He tried to look steamed. But the slight tremor in his lip betrayed him, just as the far away look in his eyes did. Simon swallowed. 

"It's loch ye aye say. It's jist aesthetics. It doesnae matter."

Renton snorted. "Aesthetics... That's jist a fud way ay sayin aam bent withit the risk ay gettin' skinned." He looked at Simon before looking around the living room. It was only 11. They'd normally go for hours. But he just couldn't bring himself to sit here any longer. He got up, turning the television off. "Aam gonnae scratcher."

"Dinnae turn in, Mark," Simon said, his voice quiet as he stood. Remorseful. "Please. Mebbe... mebbe yer mah aesthetic. Ye ever consider 'at?"

"Dinnae-"

"Mebbe aam a bufty wi' a hard oan fur mah best mate." He looked at Mark as straight on as he could through the weed and booze. He had to be serious. He had been thinking about this for months. Not the kiss. But this conversation. How he'd tell him. Ever since Mark told him about the blow job behind Cenny's. Simon had been in the closet so long. Looking at his friends as they stretched before soccer games. Sitting in health class and feeling nothing when they talked about reproduction and all the other boys got flustered. Even watching the first Edinburgh Pride pass by his window. The same night Mark had his first man. Simon's chest tightened as he continued. "Mebbe when ye tauld me abit 'at queen, ah thooght abit whit it woods be loch wi' ye.."

"Dinnae play."

"Mark, ah swear."

Mark looked at him for a long time, silent before licking his lips. He looked down, brows furrowing. "Simon, ah.. ah dinnae ken whit tae say." He wiped his face, letting out a dry, tired laugh. "If ye ur an' ah am, we coods hae jist talked abit it ye divit."

Simon let out a breath, his own quiet laugh escaping him. "When hae either ay us ever gotten sentimental?"

Mark smiled, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his feet. Simon smiled back, looking a bit goofy from the mix of relief and drugs.

"Ye sure poke a lot ay birders fur a bender." 

"Aam insecure but aam horny."

They stood for a little while longer before Mark stepped closer. He held Simon's face, kissing him hard. One hand drifting down and squeezing Simon's thigh. He shivered, wrapping his arms around Mark's neck and kissing back. Aye. Definitely didn't need the act with men. 


End file.
